Cold is the northern winds in December mornings,
Cold is the cry that rings from this far distant shore.
Winter has come too late. Too close beside me.
How can I chase away all these fears deep inside?
I'll wait the signs to come. I'll find a way.
I will wait the time to come. I'll find a way home.
My light shall be the moon and my path – the ocean.
My guide the morning star as I sail home to you
I'll wait the signs to come. I'll find a way.
I will wait the time to come. I'll find a way home.
Who then can warm my soul? who can quell my passion?
Out of these dreams – a boat. I will sail home to you